I Could Fall In Love (in Corpus Christi)
by JustKeepOnTheGrass
Summary: Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor try their hand at being a couple to varying degrees of success. [Jyn/Cassian with a bunch of references to Selena - Part 4 in the "Where's My Love?" series]


_**Author's Note:** I'm back with a somewhat happier story in this series. But because it is me, it is still a little bit angsty and a little bittersweet. I just can't help it, guys! Please don't hate me!_

 _This whole Corpus Christi idea was inspired by a comment from guineapiggie (go read her story "Cold Coffee" if you haven't already!) who chose this city as a destination for Jyn and Cassian to travel to during their happier times. This is my own interpretation of the trip and what comes after. Please note that I have never been to Corpus Christi or even to America. So if you think that I made any mistakes about the city or with those few Spanish phrases, please leave a (calm) comment and I will get back to you._

 _This story takes place before "Blackbird" and "Emergency Contact". You do not have to read those ones to understand this one, but I encourage you to nonetheless for hidden easter eggs. (*nudge nudge*)._

 _Reviews are (almost) better than Jyn and Cassian getting a happy ending. So please leave one if you can. Cheers!_

* * *

 _How sweet the past is, no matter how wrong, or how sad._

 _How sweet is yesterday's noise._

 **Charles Wright**

.

.

 **\- before -**

 _She looks over from the passenger seat and it doesn't matter that her make up is a little smudged, that her hair is a little messy, or that there's a small patch of ketchup on the white dress that she's wearing. She has on his sunglasses - the old, crooked pair that he bought from Mexico City. And whenever she smiles in them, his heart clenches a little more._

 _He thinks that she must be a dream._

 _"Hey, you," she says, and she grins as she turns around in her seat to face him. (He keeps telling her to wear her seatbelt, but when has she ever done anything as she's told?)_

 _"What?" he asks, grinning back._

 _"I think I've figured out why you want to go to Corpus Christi."_

 _"Why's that?"_

 _"Corpus. Christi," she says, spreading her hands open as though the answer is obvious. "The name. It means 'body of Christ'."_

 _"So?" He is still smiling. It should hurt to be smiling this much, but somehow, it doesn't._

 _She raises an eyebrow mockingly. "Is this your Catholic guilt talking?"_

 _"I take offence with that," he says, pretending to glare at her angrily. "When have I ever been religious?"_

 _"Exactly."_

 _He chuckles. "Are you saying that you don't want to go?"_

 _"Hey. I said nothing of the sort." She holds up her phone and he catches a glimpse of TripAdvisor on the screen. "I did some research and I want to request some places that we can go to."_

 _"In Corpus?"_

 _"No, in the lost city of Atlantis," she says, rolling her eyes. "Of course, in Corpus!"_

 _"Okay. Where?"_

 _"The beach."_

 _"Of course we're going to the beach."_

 _"Mirador de la Flor."_

 _"That's a given."_

 _She frowns. "Seriously? I thought there'd be more of a debate."_

 _"Why do you sound so surprised?"_

 _"Well, I just…" Her smile is growing wider by the second. "I never imagined you as a Selena fan."_

 _"Well," he says, shrugging in a satisfied sort of way, "there's still a lot that you don't know about me."_

 _"Huh." She turns back to face the road. "I thought I knew everything."_

 _"Are you upset?" he asks, a teasing tone to his voice._

 _"On the contrary," she says and she wraps her hand around his, "it's nice."_

 _"Yeah?"_

 _"Yeah."_

 _They drive in silence for a while, him with one hand on the wheel and with the other in hers. Today, the sun is shining and fields after fields of green and yellow whip pass as they speed down the highway. He has never done this before - just driving because he wants to. Somehow, with her, he feels like he could drive forever and it wouldn't matter where they end up._

 _"I'm not used to this," she says eventually._

 _He looks sideways at her and sees that she is biting her bottom lip, his sunglasses balancing unsteadily on the bridge of her nose._

 _"Me too," he says, and he squeezes her hand. "But I think I can learn how to."_

* * *

 **\- after -**

The girl is fourteen years old and lying face down on the bed in a pool of her own blood. The wounds on her body are severe, even to Cassian who has seen more than his fair share of gruesome deaths. The murderer had done his job and more; it is not just her throat that was cut, but her thighs, her stomach and her wrists. She had been a pretty little thing, he notices, and he scribbles the detail down in his notepad. It shouldn't matter, but in cases like these, it usually does.

Someone in the room makes a gagging, heaving sound. Cassian looks up and his gaze lands on the newbie. The boy has a hand over his nose and his eyes are darting around the room like a wild animal's. Cassian has seen that look in people's eyes before. Fear.

He shoves his notepad back into his pocket.

"Melshi," he says to the newbie in a strained, patient voice, "take five."

"Sir, I don't think that's - "

"I don't want you throwing up all over my crime scene."

The boy has the decency to blush. He makes no other comment as he shuffles out of the room. A few seconds later, his place is taken up by an older man. Tall, bearded, impeccably dressed in a suit and with a scowl on his face.

"Inspector," says Cassian, nodding at the newcomer.

Inspector Draven barely acknowledges Cassian's greeting. Instead, he glares down at the dead body between them.

"This is going to be huge," Draven says, in a tone one normally uses to discuss the weather. "My phone is blowing up. The press wants in on this."

Cassian sighs; he has been expecting as much. A rich, wealthy white girl slashed to death in her apartment? The headlines practically write themselves.

"Sir, I can't work with the vultures circling."

"Then you don't work at all," says Draven, this time with a harshness that brooks no argument. He moves closer to the bed and crouches down so that his face is level with the victim's. "Brutal. Savage, even. At least we can assume that it is not gang-related. Crime of passion, maybe?"

"Most of the signs point to that, sir."

"Any witnesses?"

"The maid. She's the one who found the body."

"Parents?"

"On vacation in Europe. Dameron is still trying to reach them."

Draven stands back up. His eyes sweep over the rest of the room: the upturned chair, the blood on the floor, the ripped curtains.

"Where's forensic?"

"On their way, sir."

"Who are they sending?"

"James Kay, sir."

The inspector winces. "The rest of the boys will be pleased."

"Kay is the best forensic scientist we have, sir," says Cassian immediately. He can't quite help the protective tone that creeps into his voice. "I work with him or no one else."

"You sure make a lot of demands, Detective Andor," growls Draven, but he doesn't look displeased. Just irritated. He lifts a hand and scratches the back of his head. "Deal with this, okay? Crack this. Otherwise, it will be all our heads on the chopping block."

"Understood, sir."

An hour later, Cassian is back outside, leaning against the wall of the building. Tonight, the air is chilly and he has to put his brown leather jacket back on. He is about to light a cigarette when another man approaches him. Blonde, with sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes that cut from behind his glasses.

"You saw the body?" asks Cassian.

Kay nods and leans back against the wall next to him. "We'll have the DNA results back to you in no time," he says, his British accent clipped and ernest. "Any leads for now?"

"There's a boyfriend. We'll look into that first."

"Sensible. Logical."

Cassian shrugs. "Yes, but we'll see."

Kay crosses his arms and looks at Cassian for a moment. Cassian can tell that Kay is weighing something over in his mind. Somehow, he knows his friend well enough to know that whatever it is, it has nothing to do with the actual case. Not really.

"Cassian, I know that I don't tend to give you advice…"

"Really?" says Cassian, sounding amused. He lights the cigarette and brings it to his lips. "Your opinions are always so rare."

"You are full of jokes today, aren't you?" says Kay sardonically.

"I try. Cigarette?"

"No, thank you. Unlike you, I value my life."

Cassian chuckles and stows the cigarette pack back into his jacket pocket. He has lost track of how many times they have had this conversation.

"What advice are you dying to give me, Kay?"

"My advice is this: make sure that you are ready."

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

"This is a big case. It is huge. It will take up all your time, all your strength, all your… whatever it is that you detectives always boast about having in abundance."

An ironic smile tugs at his lips. "Cynicism?"

"Yes. That."

"Thank you for your concern, Kay, but I've handled big cases before. I'm not actually a stranger to…" - his shoulders lifts, his mind scrambling for the right word - "… to _traumatic_ events."

"Yes, I am aware of that," says Kay, sounding a little insulted. "But this is going to be your first big case since… well…"

Cassian almost laughs. "You can say the word, Kay."

"Since you got _married_."

Even though he (sort of) knew it was coming, Cassian still does not know what to say. He takes a long drag from his cigarette and watches as the smoke twirls around in front of them both.

Of course, Kay has thought of _everything_. Cassian, like always, has thought of everything, but not _really_. He thinks of a pair of green eyes looking back at him in the dark. He thinks of her smiling at him, her lips curling into a teasing, playful line that says she knows more than he thinks she knows.

 _Change is inevitable_ , she'd told him once.

But it feels like ever since she'd told him that, there have been nothing _but_ changes.

"She'll understand," he says eventually. He flicks his cigarette, watching the ash drift down, and turns to give Kay a firm pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Kay. Trust me. She knows what she's gotten herself into."

Kay lifts an eyebrow. There is no mistaking the scepticism in his tone and expression.

"Does she?"

Cassian's hand slips back down to his side again, and he drops his half-finished cigarette to the ground.

"Come on. It's late," he says instead. "I'll give you a ride home. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow."

Thankfully, Kay does not pursue the subject further.

But after they have gotten into Cassian's car and he has turned onto the highway, Kay's eyes shift to the clock on the dashboard. When he speaks again, he cannot quite disguise the way every word is punctuated with more _meaning_ than Cassian is comfortable with.

"You are running late."

Cassian's jaw tightens.

He knows. He already knows.

"She'll understand," he says again, not looking at his friend. "She'll understand."

* * *

 **\- before -**

 _They have lunch at a restaurant called Hi-Ho (she orders the carne guisada platter and he the beef fajita) and then they take a stroll around the pier and along the beach, stopping at various food stalls to buy ice creams and snacks. She is right. They are not used to this - just walking with their hands in each other's, the waters trickling at their feet, and talking about random things just because they never want to stop talking to each other._

 _He wonders if they will ever get bored of it. But then he looks over at her and she is glowing in her dress with her hair all over the place, and he can't ever imagine a scenario in which he will ever get tired of seeing her happy._

 _"I'm glad we did this," he finds himself saying._

 _She bumps her shoulder into his._

 _"Are you getting sappy on me again?" she asks, smiling into his face._

 _He bends down and kisses her, tasting the vanilla ice cream on her lips._

 _"We're walking along the beach hand in hand," he says. "It can't get any sappier than this."_

 _"Well, I can imagine a few other ways to make this sappier."_

 _"Oh, really?"_

 _He stops walking and winds an arm around her waist. His breath tickles against her cheek._

 _"How about we…"_

 _"If you say 'make love on the beach', I will murder you right here and right now."_

 _He bursts out laughing._

 _"Well, you were the one who suggested - "_

 _"I meant taking a picture together or drawing our names on the sand! You know, those pathetic couple things that people do? I didn't mean getting it on in broad daylight where everyone can see!"_

 _"Well," he says, planting a kiss on her neck, "we can come back when everyone else is gone."_

 _She swats him on the arm. "You are impossible, do you know that?" But her eyes are twinkling up at him and she pulls him down for a more thorough kiss._

 _When they finally break apart, he can't help but think that he doesn't deserve this. Not any of it._

 _"What is it?" she asks, that cautious look returning again._

 _He tells her that it is nothing - that he's just thinking about nothing - and she mercifully lets it go._

 _He can't tell her that he is afraid that this wouldn't last. He can never do that. Because the possibility of this not lasting means that one of them would have to leave eventually, and how can he talk about leaving with a woman whose entire life has been shaped by the people who had left her?_

 _"We have to get the crew souvenirs," he tells her as they start walking again. "Otherwise, we won't hear the end of it."_

 _"Can I get Bodhi a fridge magnet?"_

 _"Come on, Jyn! You can't be that cruel."_

 _"Why not? It's a quaint gift. He'll like it." She brushes her hair away from her face. "A fridge magnet in the shape of Texas maybe."_

 _"Who's being sappy now?" he teases her, but she just smiles and leans into him._

* * *

 **\- after -**

She is waiting outside in the cold with her luggage when he swings the car into the airport. Her hair is tied into a messy ponytail, a pillow is squeezed under her arm, and she has on an oversized hoodie that he recognises immediately as his. The sight of her there, after three whole weeks of not seeing her, still makes his heart quicken a little.

He parks the car right in front of her and sprints out to give her a quick peck on the lips.

"Sorry I'm late," he says. "Work. Something came up."

"It's fine. I understand."

"Were you waiting long?"

He grabs her suitcase and pops open the trunk.

"No, not that long," she replies as she climbs into the passenger seat. There is something tight around her mouth. She is angry, he knows, but she is trying not to show it. "The flight was horrible though."

"Oh, yeah? Horrible how?"

"A screaming baby and a snoring passenger is not a good combination."

He gets into the driver's seat and pulls on his seatbelt. She doesn't do the same, and she looks at him like she is daring him to comment on it.

He chooses not to.

"How are Chirrut and Baze?" he asks instead as he puts the car into gear.

"They're fine. They send their love."

"How is their business doing?"

"It's thriving, the bastards."

And they spend the rest of the car ride home discussing Chirrut's martial arts institute - whether their friends are going to open another branch or who are the famous celebrities that Chirrut is teaching. It is a safe subject for them both; he doesn't have to ask her about her job search and she doesn't have to ask him about whatever it was that held him up.

He still sees the girl there - dead, dead, dead - with her hair fanning around her face like an ominous, tragic halo. And later that night, after he and Jyn have showered and changed and are lying together in bed, he can still smell all the _blood_.

He thinks again about what Kay had said to him in that alley while he stood there smoking in the dark.

 _She'll understand_ , he had reassured his friend. _She'll understand._

But maybe he shouldn't be expecting her to. Maybe he and Kay are both wrong. He is not certain. That is the problem. How does he share the darker aspects of his life with someone who _is_ his light? Is he supposed to? Or is this the point in their relationship where they should compartmentalise instead? Maybe he should just focus on 'fighting the good fight' (what a joke of a term) and she should just focus on starting over.

He doesn't know the right answer. He is not even sure that there is one. But he knows that she is still angry with him. At least he knows her well enough to know _that_.

He can tell from her breathing that she is still awake and his hand finds hers in the darkness. She tenses at his touch.

"Cassian…"

"I know. You don't have to say anything," he tells her quickly, hurriedly. "It's just…today has not been a good day."

For a while, she doesn't respond. Then, suddenly, she tugs at his fingers, and he just _understands_. They both turn on their sides so that they are now facing each other on the bed, his face inches away from hers. In the soft light from the moon outside, he can see how tired her eyes look. He trails a hand over the creases on her forehead.

"I wish that I can tell you everything," he whispers honestly.

"You can."

He lets his fingers trace over her eyelids, over her nose, and then over her soft, parting lips.

"Sometimes I don't know how. Can you forgive me?"

Her smile is a little bit broken, a little bit sharp, and she moves her lips to kiss the tip of his fingers.

"You forgave me for my less than stellar past," she says. "Now you have a criminal for a wife."

"An ex-criminal."

"Is there a difference?"

Again. Another question he does not know the answer to.

There are days when he thinks that _he_ is now the criminal and not her. The things he has seen and the things he has done… well, they have not always been _right_ , and he still can't decide whether questionable acts done in service of the greater good are more acceptable than questionable acts done for the sake of survival. Every time he looks at her, he thinks that it is too hard to measure. Either way, they both have too much blood on their hands. Perhaps there's even more on his, even though people would think that it surely must be the other way around.

Her voice is barely above a whisper when she asks: "Cassian, are you happy?"

His heart drops and his hand stills.

"Why are you asking me this?"

She lifts her hand to touch his cheek, her fingers brushing over his hair and over his brow as if she is trying to smooth out the lines on his face. Her thumb presses against the bone there, her other fingers moving up and down his skin, trying to scratch away at an invisible mask.

"Because, sometimes," she says sadly, "I can't quite tell."

 _And that is my fault too, I suppose_ , he thinks.

But when the word comes, it comes out strongly, and without any hesitation.

"Yes," he says, his chest tightening at the syllable. "Yes. I am happy. Jyn, I never thought that - "

"That we could ever have this?"

"Yes." He brings his hand to hers. "Yes."

She leans forward and presses her lips against his, and he closes his eyes and lets himself taste her, feel her, get lost in her.

It is not perfect. It will never be perfect. But maybe - just maybe - they are going to be alright.

* * *

 **\- before -**

 _Jyn gets her way and they buy Bodhi a fridge magnet in the shape of Texas. They choose matching Corpus Christi t-shirts for Chirrut and Baze, and Cassian ends up getting Kay a very boring book on the history of the city and another depressing one on the 1916 Texas hurricane._

 _Their last stop before the sun sets is Mirador de la Flor, and they stand there in front of the statue, arms laden with bags filled with souvenirs and local food._

 _Jyn rests her head on his shoulder._

 _"This is nice," she says. (He has lost track of how many times they have both said that today.) "And I'm flattered that I'm the only one who knows that you're a Selena fan."_

 _"You're not the only one," he says, smiling. "Kay knows."_

 _"Don't ruin the moment."_

 _He chuckles and presses a kiss on the top of her head._

 _"Oh, he disapproves."_

 _"Of Selena? How can anyone disapprove of Selena? I'm British and I approve of her wholeheartedly."_

 _"Kay doesn't disapprove of Selena in particular, but of my taste in music in general. He thinks that all the songs I listen to are sad songs."_

 _"Really? Which ones?"_

 _He lets out a long breath as if he is about to tell her a secret. He puts down the bag of souvenirs that he's been holding and wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer._

 _"Does 'No me Queda Mas' count as a sad song?"_

 _"Yes, it does," she says, eyes growing wide in surprise, and she snuggles into the crook of his arm. "And it is blowing my mind right now - the fact that you know the song's name."_

 _"Oh, I know more than just the name," he says, smiling. "Y aunque viví enamorada...y totalmente equivocada…no me importa...porque esto sí fue amor… por mi parte lo más lindo...el más grande amor…"_

 _"Ha! Who would have thought," she laughs, a little brokenly against his chest. "A real lyricist, you are. Can we record you singing that later and send it to Kay?"_

 _"You wouldn't dare."_

 _"Oh, I would. I really would," she says, smiling teasingly up at him. "That's why your life would be so dull without me."_

 _And this is the moment when he knows for sure. There is no such thing as Karma._

 _He decides, as he looks into her eyes, that the concept of it can't possible be true. Because if karma exists, then this wouldn't be happening right now - her so warm against him, close enough that her laughter vibrates through his own body._

 _It is luck - pure, random, completely unfathomable luck. The realisation shouldn't make him feel afraid, but it does. Because luck, unlike karma, has the habit of running out._

 _His voice is low and rough with emotion when he tells her: "I like you quite a bit. You know that, right?"_

 _"Yes, I know that," she says, blinking away the tears that are starting to form in her eyes. "I like you quite a bit too."_

 _And in the distance, over the beach and above the shimmering waters, the sun begins to set._

* * *

 _It's true I love you_

 _I love the way you move in that silly white dress_

 _Because the truth is hard to admit_

 _I've never known love_

 _This is just my best guess_

.

.

.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** So this is a bit of a short one. However, I did do some research for this, believe it or not! While I was googling Corpus Christi, I was surprised to learn that so much of the city's history is linked to the legacy of Selena. (Not Gomez, obviously, but the Queen, Selena Quintanilla.) Hi-Ho is a restaurant she used to frequent and the Mirador de la Flor is her memorial. And if google and I are not mistaken, the Selena lyrics Cassian recites from "No Me Queda Mas" translate to, "And even though I lived in love and I was totally wrong, I don't care. Because this really was love for me, the loveliest and greatest love". Or something along these lines anyway. Spanish speakers, please feel free to provide a better translation!_

 _A special thank you goes to The Airbourne Toxic Event. The lyrics at the end of the story is from their song "Elizabeth", one of the most cynically romantic songs ever written. References to the song are littered throughout the story - the white dress, "all your songs are sad songs" etc. A bigger thank you, however, goes to Selena, who I could fall in love with any day._

 _And lastly, thank you to YOU for reading. Please let me know what you thought!_


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